


Smoke and Fire

by Deaf_Dog



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, M/M, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deaf_Dog/pseuds/Deaf_Dog
Summary: Lance is a firefighter who lives in the apartment under Keith's, who has a bad habit of smoking on the fire escape. Klance fic.





	

There were really only two options when it came to Lance, Keith discovered. Either he had a crush on Keith or he was really adamant about fire safety. He learned Lance was a firefighter the day he moved in. The other man was very friendly, welcoming Keith to the building, asking what he did for a job, telling him about great places to go see in the city. Although, once he saw the packet of cigarettes on Keith’s table, he went into lecture mode. 

“Oh, you smoke?” Lance asked, obviously bothered by this fact once it was brought to light. 

“Every now and then. Helps calm my nerves.” Keith responded, leaning on the doorway still. 

“You know, those things are really bad for you. Did you know that they cause 20% of house fires? They cause 1,000 fire-related deaths a year and 3,000 injuries.” Lance rambled on. Keith’s face fell. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten this lecture before by.  .  . just about everyone he knew. The only person who really didn’t say much about it, surprisingly, was his dad. And right now, Lance sounded like one of those websites dedicated to abolishing Keith’s only real stress-relief. 

“Trust me, I’ve heard the spiel a thousand times.” Keith rolled his eyes. “It was nice of you to welcome me into the building, but I still have some unpacking to do.” He said, trying to politely get Lance to leave. By the look on his face, Lance still wanted to talk, but he understood when someone was kicking him out. 

“I could help you unpack if you want.” Well, sometimes he understood when someone was kicking him out. 

“No, I think I’m fine.” Keith said through gritted teeth. What was with this guy? Lance pursed his lips. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you around.” Lance shot finger guns at Keith, making him cringe, then leaving the apartment. Keith sighed, happy that was over. Or so he would like to think. 

It hadn’t even been a week yet when Lance came back to Keith’s door. He would definitely have to start using the peephole. 

“Can I help you?” Keith asked, still in his pajamas. What time was it? Well, it was only 9 a.m, but still. Lance held up a pot of dirt. There wasn’t anything in there, so Keith was confused at best. “A.  .  . housewarming gift?” He asked. 

“My dahlias. My blue dahlias were in this pot.” Lance said, as if Keith had murdered them. The male in question blinked, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Well, they’re not there now.” Keith said, not seeing the issue. 

“Do you see this?” Lance rubbed some gray dust in his fingers that was lying on top of the dirt. “Ash. Do you smoke on the fire escape? Because my flowers are under yours.” He said with narrow eyes. Keith’s eyes widened when he realized what he did. There were fire detectors in the apartment, so he sat out on the fire escape at night to have a cigarette. When he knocked the end on the metal grates, some of the embers must have fallen through and ate Lance’s flowers. Which, in his defense, were a strange thing to keep on the fire escape. He should probably apologize for destroying the.  .  . what was it? Some blue flower. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keith scoffed. 

“Yes, you do!” Lance argued, holding his pot close to his chest. “God, just watch where you’re dropping ashes.” He grumbled. 

“Will do.” Keith said as he closed the door in the other boy’s face. This was the first of many times that Lance would come up the stairs to complain to Keith about his “vulgar habits”. 

“It smells like smoke outside. Can’t you go to the front or something?”

“Stop putting your cigarette butts in my plants outfront!” 

“I heard the smoke detector go off! Was it you?” That time it had been the toaster, but Lance was quick up the stairs when it happened, though. 

It had been an especially stressful day at Keith’s work. He worked as a mechanic, so a lot of rowdy people usually came in when he was on the clock. Keith was the type of worker who liked peace and silence, which was too much for some people apparently. When he got back home after the long 14 hour day, all he wanted to do was sit on the fire escape and have a smoke. Was that too much to ask for? 

Keith opened the window and climbed out, sitting comfortably on the steps as he lit up. He took a drag and sighed, feeling his muscles loosen up. He heard some noises coming from below and looked over the railing to see Lance on the fire escape, as well. 

“Don’t worry. It’s not too cold tonight, so I think you’ll be ok.” Lance murmured to himself as he set a pot of white flowers out on the window sill. They were pretty and seemed to be blooming to the light from the big moon. Keith rested his chin on his hand as he watched. What type of guy talks to flowers? Lance sat back on the metal grate and opened up a can of something, putting it on the edge. A cat hopped up from the stairs leading down. It was a pretty white cat, but when it turned around to walk to Lance, Keith could see ugly, scarred skin on half its face and body. 

“Nice night, isn’t it?” Lance mused as he pet the cat, giving it some of the wet food. Keith peered through the grates, wanting to see what was happening. It wasn’t weird, he assured himself, to be watching his rather annoying neighbor. 

“I brought you some chicken and turkey food tonight. Your face is looking a lot better. I don’t think fur will grow back over the burns, but you’re still as pretty as ever.” Lance smiled, scratching behind her ear as she purred. Keith felt his stomach sink, looking at the cigarette in his hand. He huffed, putting it out on the metal rail before tossing it. No way was some cute firefighter and his ugly cat going to make Keith feel bad. Nope, nope, nope. He crawled back into his apartment, trying to shake the guilty feeling in his gut. He felt like he just witnessed something private. He groaned, laying down on his couch. No way was he going to change his habits because a guy was sympathetic with a cat. 

 

Lance was surprised to see Keith at his door. Normally, it was the other way around. He wondered if Keith was maybe here to complain to him about Lance complaining about him. 

“Yes?” Lance rose a brow, crossing his arms. It was 7 at night and Lance wanted to eat dinner and finish watching  _ How to Get Away with Murder _ , not that that was foreshadow or anything like that. 

Keith took a breath, trying to figure out the right words to say. He hated admitting anything. He hated being wrong or disproven. For two years in middle school he insisted Mothman was real because a kid he hated said he was fake. Keith was certain, to this day, that that magnificent creature was still flying in the skies and predicting fate. Keith shifted his weight before pulling out his pack of cigarettes and handing it to Lance. 

“I don’t smoke.” Lance narrowed his eyes. “I thought that was pretty obvious by now.” He scoffed, making a disgusted face from just looking at the vile things. 

“I’m quitting.” Keith finally spoke. “Take them and throw them away or something. I don’t smoke anymore.” He said. Lance looked him straight in the eyes for what felt like ever, but eventually took the cigarettes. He tossed them over to the trash bin by his kitchen, having perfect aim. They stood there for another moment, awkward silence weighing down on their shoulders. 

“Do you want some coffee or something?” Lance offered, a pout still on his face. Keith sighed. 

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, walking into the apartment as Lance moved out of his way. 

“So, why did you quit?” Lance asked, not leaving the subject be as he started his coffee pot. Keith chewed at his lip. 

“They were giving me a headache and I hate buying them.” Keith answered. 

“That’s nice, but what’s the real reason?” Lance smirked, knowing Keith wouldn’t have quit without his very forceful hand. Cigarettes gave everyone a headache and no one liked buying them. That didn’t make others stop, though. Keith’s pale cheeks turned a bright shade of red. 

“I.  .  . I saw your stupid cat.” Keith huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Black or cream?” Lance asked. 

“Huh? It was a white cat. The one with half its face missing.” Keith felt confused. Oh, no. Was Lance one of those people who fed like 20 outdoor cats because he was lonely?

“I meant your coffee. I know what cat you’re talking about.” Lance rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, black.” Keith murmured, feeling really embarrassed now. 

“Her name is Daffodil.” Lance told him, setting a cup of coffee on the table and sat down. Keith hesitantly sat with him, taking his cup of coffee. 

“You really like flowers, huh?” Keith commented, taking a sip of coffee.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance exclaimed, eyes wide. 

“N-nothing! It didn’t mean anything.” Keith put his hands up, almost knocking over his coffee. 

“I like flowers, so what? It’s better than.  .  . than collecting sticks or having creepy figurines.” It sounded like Lance went on this rant quite a bit. Keith wondered if being a firefighter put strain on his masculinity, seeing as Lance was in touch with his feminine side. He could see that with how smooth Lance’s skin was and the shape of his apartment. Lance also smelled sweet, like flowers or fruit. Why didn’t other guys like to smell like that? Keith liked it. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I like your flowers. They’re everywhere.” Keith said. 

“You owe me a blue dahlia.” Lance said as he sipped his coffee. 

“What?”

“My dahlias. You killed them.” Lance reminded him. Keith’s expression fell. So, he was like this in literally every aspect of his life. What a strange guy. “Back to the point, though. You saw Daffodil and you decided to quit smoking?” He asked, curiously. 

“She’s a pretty cat, even with those.  .  . scars. I just.  .  .” Keith tried to find the right words to express his feelings. 

“Bad? Guilty? Even though she was like that long before you got here?” Lance suggested. Keith was getting annoyed. Not because that was the wrong answer, but because Lance was confident in Keith’s guilt. 

“Where’d you find her?” Keith tried changing the subject. Lance did his best to keep from smirking, knowing he won there. 

“A year ago, there was this old house that burned down. The old lady’s lamp sparked and the house started on fire when she was sleeping. She died, but we found the cat in the rubble. Well, I took her home and now her name is Daffodil. I take her to the vet every month to get her checked out. She’s not really a house cat, so she comes and goes.” Lance explained. Wow, if Keith felt bad before, he definitely felt bad now. Lance certainly was annoying, but he had a heart of gold and Keith almost hated him for that. 

“She’s nice.” Keith said, albite a bit awkwardly. He drank the rest of his coffee, realizing that he just quit smoking for the cute guy who lived right under him. 

 

Lance came over quite a bit after that, almost like he was keeping tabs on Keith. They got into arguments all the time, but they were always stupid and never lasted more than a day. 

“I think I’m going to head back down for the night. Early morning training for the new people.” Lance said, getting off the couch. 

“Wait.  .  . before you leave.” Keith said, getting Lance’s attention. Keith went over the the window and pulled something in from out on the fire escape. Keith brought over a small potted plant. In the small, glazed pot was a red dahlia. 

“I still owe you, right?” Keith said, setting the plant down on the table. The biggest, goofiest grin spread on Lance’s face before he pulled Keith forward and planted his lips on top of his. Keith was shocked, to say the least. He froze up, not sure how to react. Lance always mentioned trying new lines on girls, but really, when did he ever say he was straight? 

“Thanks.” Lance said, pulling back, his cheeks dark red. He looked a little panicked now, not sure if Keith wanted to kiss him. What if he was straight? What if he didn’t like him that way? “I-I.  .  . I didn’t.  .  .” He was cut off when Keith pecked his lips, a return. 

“Can I.  .  . call you tomorrow?” Lance asked, completely flustered. Keith was doing his best to keep his flushed composure. 

“Or you could just come up?” Keith said, making both of them grin. 


End file.
